


Chasing Memories

by cakeengland



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Pre-Canon, Roleswap, and i probably could've gotten away with T but yknow, asra and the apprentice swap places, passive-aggressive behaviour, practical bloodplay, probably only the first chapter will be rated M, the apprentice is a cis female and uses she/her pronouns, the apprentice/julian is for one scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-06-03 02:02:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19454068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeengland/pseuds/cakeengland
Summary: A plague ravages Vesuvia, and takes with it the love of Amelianne's life. Half her heart is traded for Asra's return, but he's not who he once was; how could he be, without memory?But the memories that are lost may not be gone. If Asra dares to search, he may just rediscover himself.





	1. Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, this is a short thing I'm doing as a break from BHaH! It's a challenge fic consisting of five chapters. I have a list of about 200 prompts I roll with each new chapter, and the prompt I roll has to be used for the chapter, while still maintaining the plot. This is a challenge because I'll have no idea what I'm writing in advance!
> 
> This is an open challenge, and you can roll your own prompts or message me for them! My tumblr is princess-of-arcana, and you can also message me just to hang out!
> 
> Prompts are in the chapter titles.

“Are you  _ kidding  _ me, Asra?” Amelianne was  _ this  _ close to tearing her hair out in frustration. She loved Asra to pieces, but sometimes he had ideas  _ that made absolutely no goddamn sense.  _ This was one of those times. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Vesuvia is currently overrun with a freaking  _ plague! _ And you still want to visit it  _ now? _ It’d be suicide!”

Asra sighed heavily, and Amelianne could tell he was every bit as frustrated with her as she was with him. “Amelia, we need to! We’re running low on some ingredients that can only be found in Vesuvia. My parents have a shop there, we can stay with them. Besides, we have good memories there.”

Amelianne paused. That… that was true. She’d been visiting Vesuvia for the Masquerade when she’d met Asra. She remembered the night as clearly as if it were yesterday. She’d been wearing a flowing princess gown woven from emerald green silk, a pearl necklace, and an elegant peahen mask. Asra had been a fox, and while it hadn’t been love at first sight, exactly, it had been something close to that. All she really remembered of that night was dancing with him, talking with him, getting to know him.

_ “I’m Amelianne. Friends call me Amelia.” _

_ “A pleasure. My name is Asra.” _

His favourite flowers were belladonna; hers were red carnations. She’d made flower crowns for the two of them that night, her magic coming out easily as she worked. Seeing the way Asra had smiled and laughed so brightly and genuinely when she’d placed the crown on his head;  _ that  _ was the moment she’d fallen.

And boy, she had fallen  _ hard. _

Wait, she was meant to be convincing Asra to stay, not reminiscing on the past. Amelianne pressed her lips in a thin line, putting her hands on her hips and glaring. “Oh, no! Nope. Absolutely not.”

“Amelianne!” Asra pleaded, and her resolve faltered, just for a moment. Asra rarely called her by her full name anymore.

However, Amelianne was nothing if not a spitfire, so it immediately came back with a vengeance. “Listen, Asra. I don’t know about you, but I am staying here, in Nevivon, where it’s  _ safe.  _ If you want to run off to some country that’s literally drowning in corpses, be my guest. The door’s right there.” She gestured to said door, her flair for the dramatic turning the simple movement into a flourish.

Tears brimmed in Asra’s eyes. “Fine. I will!” He snatched up his satchel, Faust curling around his shoulders, and in the next moment, he was gone.

Amelianne watched the door slam shut, nails digging into her palms. Anger still coursed through her body like a red-hot fire, but guilt was starting to gnaw at her conscience. She’d really just let her significant other up and leave to a plague-ridden country by himself.

Nibbles scrambled up her arm to rest on her shoulder, twitching her nose.  _ Is he going to be okay?  _ The language her mouse familiar used to communicate wasn’t so much words as it was a ripple on the edge of her consciousness.

Amelianne sighed. “He better be,” she replied, hoping she sounded more confident, more fierce than she actually felt as she slipped into their– her living space.

Without Asra, the bed suddenly felt a lot colder. She tried to tell herself it was just in her mind.

* * *

_ He’s just mad at me, or enjoying his vacation,  _ Amelianne had told herself when Asra hadn’t returned after two months.

After six months, it had turned to,  _ he’s anything but dead. _

After a year had gone by, Amelianne couldn’t bear it anymore. She’d thrown the bare travel essentials into a satchel, grabbed Nibbles, and hailed the first ship headed to Vesuvia. It was a wild ride, she faintly recalled, and she’d no doubt have had a great many stories to tell from the trip, had she cared to pay attention at all. As it was, she spent most of her time belowdecks, praying to whatever god would listen that Asra was safe and well, even if he was still mad at her for what she’d said, even if he wouldn’t take her back.

Once they docked on the shores of Vesuvia, Amelianne didn’t dare linger. She shot off like a dart into the streets, her feet carrying her along a path that she’d treaded once before, years ago. She supposed she was lucky to know the way to Asra’s parents’ shop.

Amelianne skidded to a halt in front of the door, Nibbles chittering in displeasure. “Sorry,” she apologized, out of breath, before bounding up to the door and rapping her knuckles harshly against it.

No response. She tried again, with the same results. Her heart began to race even faster as her hand dropped to the doorknob, pulling, almost  _ yanking  _ at it. Locked. Logic reasoned that no one was home.

“Oh gods,” she whispered, running her hands through her hair and messing it up even more. “Asra, please, please…” The words fell past her lips in a breathless rush, desperation lacing every syllable. “You’re fine. You’re fine.” She repeated it like a mantra. “Asra,  _ please.” _

She didn’t think as she forced the lock open with a small burst, no,  _ explosion  _ of magic. The door trembled as it creaked open, and for a second, Amelianne thought it was going to fall off its hinges. It didn’t, and that was the last thought she paid to it.

“ASRA!” she cried, bursting into the main room of the shop, Nibbles squeaking loudly as well. The place looked abandoned at a cursory glance, a thick layer of dust coating the counter, shelves, and other furniture. The curtains were drawn and moth-eaten, and cobwebs decorated every corner. Asra hadn’t been here in quite some time, logic told her, and yet Amelianne refused to believe it.  _ “ASRA!” _

_ Asra’s not here.  _ Amelianne gritted her teeth at Nibbles’ words.  _ Maybe you should look elsewhere? _

“I don’t know where else to look, Nibbles,” Amelianne muttered, frustration creeping into her tone, her hands tugging at her hair as she glanced around again. “Maybe he went to live with his parents. Yes, that’s it. I don’t know where their house is, though.”

_ A location spell!  _ Nibbles suggested, twitching her whiskers.  _ That will take you straight to him. _

“A location spell…” Amelianne’s eyes widened. “Yes, yes, Nibbles, you’re a genius! I just need something of his…” She eyed the stairs. “And I think I know where to find it.”

She took the steps two at a time, soon emerging into what was unmistakably Asra’s bedroom. Like the main shop below, it looked like it hadn’t been lived in in quite some time, but rather than having everything neatly in its place, his bedroom was… a mess. There was really no nicer way Amelianne could put it.

Not that she cared. Even if she  _ wasn’t  _ looking for her erstwhile partner, she wouldn’t care; she considered herself a messy person too. The furs and blankets tossed haphazardly across the bed was a familiar sight to her; so were the numerous open drawers with their contents in varying states of disarray. It made Amelianne’s heart ache with longing, memories of Asra flooding into her brain.

She shook herself, dispelling them.  _ Focus, Amelianne! You’re here to find an item, not reminiscence on the past. _

She resumed the search. Thankfully, even though Asra was an extremely messy person, it had never been a hindrance to Amelianne, and she quickly located a small wooden statuette of a fox. She remembered it well; he’d bought it on one of their journeys to Nopal, claiming that it spoke to him. She’d laughed at it, though not unkindly, more because of how much she loved the dork.

How she missed his laugh.

Taking a deep breath, Amelianne closed her eyes. The smooth texture of the statuette in her hands was dull, lifeless, but as she sought out Asra’s magic, it began to burn her palms, coming alive. Her fingers began to tingle, the sensation slowly spreading throughout her whole body, and she peeked her eyes open. Ribbons of orange and purple light rose from the wooden fox, and Amelianne couldn’t stop the swell of excitement in her heart. “Nibbles, there, look!”

_ It’s him!  _ Nibbles agreed, like she didn’t already know that. Amelianne followed the ribbons down the stairs and out the door, feet pounding against the stone of the streets outside.  _ Asra. Asra.  _ He had to be okay, he  _ had _ to be, the spell would have failed otherwise, wouldn’t it have?

She skidded to a halt when the ribbons led her back to the shoreline. While the water kept Amelianne from progressing, it did no such thing for her spell; the glowing magic danced across the waves like lanterns, eventually disappearing from sight. Even so, Amelianne was able to pick out its destination. A dark island stood out against the horizon, grim and foreboding.

_ Asra’s there?  _ Nibbles’ unease radiated off her.  _ Amelia, that’s not a nice place. _

Amelianne closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, fingers tightening around the statuette she still held. “I know, Nibbles. But if Asra’s there, that’s where we’re going. No matter what. No negotiations.” Her familiar still chittered in displeasure, but Amelianne’s heart was set.

She flagged down a gondolier, who looked at her with wide eyes when she explained that she wanted to go to the island. “That’s the Lazaret, the quarantine island for plague victims. No one goes there.”

_ A quarantine island for…? No, don’t think about it! Asra isn’t dead. I’m sure he has a good reason for being there.  _ Amelianne gritted her teeth. “Fine. If you won’t take me, let me borrow your gondola. I’ll take myself there.”

“Ma’am, you can’t be serious,” the gondolier insisted, a pleading quality to his tone.

Amelianne fixed him with a fierce look. “I assure you, I am  _ completely  _ serious. Now, do we have an agreement, or are we going to have to…  _ negotiate?” _

The gondolier agreed.

It was a quiet ride to the Lazaret, Amelianne completely lost in her own thoughts as she stared at the grim island ahead. A quarantine island. But that didn’t have to mean Asra was dead. Maybe it was an accident, or maybe he  _ had  _ caught the plague, but had miraculously recovered. There were so many explanations, Asra wasn’t dead, he  _ couldn’t  _ be.

They arrived on blood-streaked sands, and Amelianne immediately scrambled out of the gondola to look for any sort of clue. She was in luck; the ribbons of magic that belonged to her spell had not faded as she had anticipated, hovering above a spot of sand where the crimson discoloration was darker than other places.

The ribbons dissipated before her eyes, and Amelianne dared not think about why they’d led her here. Some part of her knew what she had to do, so with a terrible feeling of dread, she dropped to her knees and began to sift through the bloodied sand. She didn’t know how long she dug, nor did she care to know. Tiny stones cut at her skin, and soon her own blood began to soak into the ground. She didn’t care about that either.

She only cared when her fingers brushed against something cool and smooth, covered in a layer of a grey substance. Amelianne scraped her fingers against the object, pulling it from its sandy tomb. And it  _ was  _ a tomb; a charred bone rested in her palms. She could see it was not the only one, and now she realized that the grey stuff was ash.

Silence. It could’ve lasted for minutes or hours. All Amelianne could be sure of was that she knelt beside a grave, and in her hands she held all that remained of… him. The love of her life, whom she’d so foolishly let slip through her fingers.

_ Asra. _

Amelianne Delaney never cried, but that didn’t stop a tear from burning her eyes, dripping down her cheek and leaving a wet trail. More followed in its wake like a dam bursting, Amelianne’s screams of anguish lost to the cursed island as her shoulders heaved.

“This isn’t happening, it’s not,” she croaked, the words feeling like knives scraping down the inside of her throat. “It can’t be happening…” She fell forwards with a _thud,_ trembling palms braced against the ground, but they gave out quickly. She must have looked like a mess, curled on the ground sobbing, but she didn’t care. Why should she care? She had nothing left to lose. Her dignity was paltry in the face of Asra’s life.

_ Amelia?  _ Nibbles crept close, caution laced in her words.  _ Are you… okay? _

Amelianne looked up, eyes blotchy and red. Any attempts to look fierce were ruined by the raw  _ heartbreak _ painted across her features. “Just peachy,” she rasped. It was meant to be more of a snap, but it seemed she wasn’t capable of that right now. “Never felt better. It’s not like I loved Asra or anything, or that I wish I could take his place or  _ anything  _ for him to be safe and alive and happy and…” She stopped as an idea struck her. She couldn’t tell if it was a brilliant idea or an insane one, but it was definitely an idea. Sniffling, she sat up, smearing blood across her face as she wiped her eyes.

“Nibbles,” she began, and her familiar perked up with curiosity. “Asra isn’t gone. Not for long, at least.”

Nibbles turned her head towards the dug-up bones. Then looked back at Amelianne. Back at the bones. Back at Amelianne.  _ Um… _

“Not for long,” Amelianne repeated, clambering to her feet and carefully placing a few of the bones in her satchel. They were…  _ painful _ to look at, but bones were a powerful catalyst for spells. That, and they were  _ Asra’s  _ bones; maybe they could help. “Because I have a plan to bring him back.”

* * *

Amelianne’s fingers traced over the ritual circle on the tablecloth, which was glowing vibrantly. Clouds of purple smoke filled the backroom, spilling out into the main shop, the faintest notes of sage in the air from the burning incense. She was almost there. The Devil was almost within her reach, and once she summoned him, she could bargain for Asra’s life back. Only two vital elements were missing; a drop of blood from her, and another willing participant.

The former would be easy to get. She  _ had  _ said she’d do anything to get Asra back, and besides, she was certain a drop of blood would pale in comparison to whatever the Devil asked of her in return for his services. The sacrifice from another willing participant, though, that’d be harder to get. Maybe she shouldn’t have refused Julian’s offer to walk her home. After all, they were a  _ bit  _ more than just friends at this point, and Amelianne imagined the good doctor would fall over himself to help her if she played her cards right.

A problem to contemplate later. Drumming her fingers against the table, Amelianne glanced around, cursing under her breath when she realized she had nothing to cut herself with. “Knew I’d forgotten something. Probably left the dagger out front.”

Parting the curtains, she was met with a pleasant surprise. Julian stood there– had he come to seek her out? In any case, Amelianne had to conceal a grin at the turn of events. This would work, as long as she pretended she was annoyed with his presence, rather than delighted.

“Ilya?” She placed her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes at him. “I said I was fine walking home by myself.” The smoke from the backroom licked at her heels, alive with her magic, and she had to fight to suppress a chuckle. Oh, Julian really had no idea what he’d just walked into.

Julian jumped, no doubt having missed her entering the room. “Amelia! Are you–”

Amelianne tilted her head, and the smoke took on tangibility, pressing down on Julian. She supposed it wasn’t strictly  _ necessary, _ but it helped to ensure the conversation would turn to what she was interested in, and she was here for results.

Julian began to cough, knees wobbling as he strained to stay upright. “Are you fooling around with that hocus pocus of yours? The Count wants results, not magic tricks–” He stumbled forwards, collapsing to his knees and bracing himself on trembling palms. It took all Amelianne had to conceal a sadistic smile. “What  _ is  _ this? What– what are you doing?”

An amused chuckle rumbled from Amelianne’s throat as she stepped forwards, tangling her fingers in thick auburn hair and  _ pulling.  _ Julian’s eyes went wide, cheeks flushing instantly. “Well, to use your words, some of that... ‘hocus pocus.’” She dropped her tone seductively, knowing exactly what she was doing to the poor man and  _ relishing _ it.

A shiver ran down Julian’s spine, a soft noise escaping his parted lips. “S-Something from of those ridiculous tomes?”

Ammeliane gave another tug, harsher than the last, and saw the beginning of pleasure-pain tears brimming in his eyes. “If that’s how you’d like to call them. If you want to help… well, I’m sure that could be arranged.” Her hand slipped to Julian’s jaw, fingers gliding over the smooth skin as she turned his head from side to side.

“I–” Julian swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Beautiful, if you wanted Amelianne’s opinion. “Will this help? If I do this with you, will it… will it change anything?”

_ Oh, it will. Just not what you think.  _ Finally, Amelianne let her fingers disentangle from Julian’s hair, grabbing an ornate ceremonial dagger off the counter as she turned to the backroom. “Probably.”

She didn’t wait to see if Julian followed her in. She knew he would, and that was perfect for her purposes. Sure enough, Julian parted the curtains a moment after she entered, ducking inside the backroom. She gestured widely to the softly glowing magic circle on the tablecloth, grinning cryptically. “Blood. Bone. Sweat and tears. Do you know what these all have in common, Ilya?” He shook his head. “They’re spell catalysts. Powerful ones. I wonder…” She traced the tip of the dagger along the pads of her fingers, careful not to cut herself. “How much are you willing to give to me?”

“I– uhm, well, that is to say, you know–” Julian swallowed, biting his lip. He fixed Amelianne with a look she could only describe as  _ eager.  _ “...I’ll give you all of me, if that’s what it takes.”

“All of you?” For a moment, she sounded incredulous, even to her own ears. Then, she nearly doubled over, unrestrained laughter bubbling up from her chest. “Oh, Ilya, you silly thing.” She looked up at him, wiping a tear from her eye. “I just need your hand.”

Julian extended his arm so quickly that he nearly knocked over a nearby bottle of salamander tears. Amelianne paid no mind to it, lightly following his lifeline with the dagger tip, not yet cutting. Suddenly, she pressed, blood welling up and trickling down onto the table. The symbols lit up for a moment, before fading away.  _ One element down. One more to go. _

Julian coughed, reminding Amelianne that he was still present. She’d honestly forgotten. “Is, er. Is that it…?”

Amelianne raised an eyebrow, amused but not at all surprised. “I suppose you wanted me to hurt you more?” Julian averted his eyes, blushing. “Yes, that’s it.”

Julian straightened up, seeming to shake himself back to his senses. “Now hold on, I– What kind of magic are you getting yourself into, Amelia? What did that do?”

_ Got me one step closer to contacting the Devil and bringing back Asra.  _ Yeah, right. As if she was going to say that to the very person she blamed for his death. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Julian did  _ not  _ like that answer. “Are you putting yourself in dange–” 

Amelianne grabbed Julian’s bloodied hand, lifting his palm to her lips and running her tongue along the cut. It effectively silenced him, eyes wide as dinner plates. Meeting his gaze steadily, she calmly said, “Ilya? Stop talking.”

Julian swallowed. For a second, Amelianne thought he was actually going to obey. “Th–then just tell me what to do instead.”

A heartbeat passed, in which Amelianne considered her options. She wanted to get the ritual done with as quickly as possible, but then again, Julian  _ had  _ been very helpful to her… she supposed he deserved a reward. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she breathed, tone dark and sultry. She pressed Julian back against the wall, and he went willingly.

“Y–you– Oh my god, yes, I’ll do anything you want, anything at all, whatever you need–” His voice trembled as he babbled. A slow smirk curled across Amelianne’s lips.

“You know I can’t give you  _ everything _ you want, Ilya.” Never could she give him a truly fulfilling relationship. Her heart wouldn’t be in it.

Not that Julian seemed to care at this moment. He slid down to his knees, gazing up at her with hunger in his eyes. “I’ll take what I can get.”

Good enough. Amelianne found herself laughing, fingers finding their place in Julian’s hair once more as she  _ pulled,  _ leaning down and sealing their lips together…

* * *

Amelianne’s brief distraction had been far from unpleasant, but with Julian gone, she was eager to return to work. She’d cleaned the dagger and now stood in front of the table. It glowed softly, waiting eagerly for her final sacrifice. She wasn’t scared. If anything, she was excited.

She sliced the dagger along her lifeline, blood dripping onto the table. The symbols glowed a brilliant, almost blinding white light, and Amelianne was hit with a dizzying rush of vertigo, the dagger slipping from her hands as she fell to the ground. She blacked out before she even hit the floorboards.

When her vision returned, she was sprawled unceremoniously on the floor of what was unmistakably the Devil’s throne room, alternatively called the centerpiece of Hell. The Devil himself was perched on his throne, regarding Amelianne with all the idle curiosity of a bored child.

Amelianne scrambled to her feet, bowing at the waist. “Lord Devil, sir. I’ve contacted you to ask for a boon.”

“I had figured as much. That’s what all you mortals want.” The Devil’s voice was gravelly, and Amelianne would liken it to nails on a chalkboard. “Very well, speak what you desire.”

“Asra Alnazar’s life back.” This, more than anything, was the part Amelianne was most confident in.

“Ah, resurrection. A common enough request, but with a price so high so few are willing to pay it.” The Devil curled his lip, looking at Amelianne with the faintest spark of renewed interest. “What of you, my dear? What are you willing to pay for your love’s return?”

Of course. He probably knew what she was going to request all along. It didn’t deter her. “Anything.”

“Anything? That’s what they all say.” The Devil stood, drawing himself up to his full, impressive height. “That is, until they hear the price. Half your heart, my dear.”

“Only half?” She would have given her full heart, if that’s what it would have taken. It almost felt like the price was too cheap. “Deal.”

The Devil grinned, baring a row of sharp teeth. It was probably meant to be intimidating or scary, but Amelianne paid it no mind. “Deal, you say? Then I shall grant your request. It’s easy enough, really.” There was no tangible change, just the briefest crackle of a power Amelianne could barely comprehend, and the Devil was speaking again. “It is done. Now for your payment, Amelianne Delaney.”

A searing pain over her heart drew a sharp gasp from Amelianne, and glancing down, she saw a symbol inscribing itself there, glowing bright white. It settled after a moment, disappearing from sight, but she could still feel its heavy chains weighing down on her. Whatever. Anything for Asra. “Thank you.”

“Do not thank me. Helping mortals is a… trifle affair.” The Devil sat back down, a hand at his chin. A chilling hint of smugness glittered in his red eyes. “I will send you back to your world now, magician. Check the street outside your shop. You wouldn’t want someone else to find him first, now would you?”

Amelianne had no chance to respond before the vertigo took her over again. As soon as she regained consciousness, she scrambled to her feet, bolting out the door– and there he was.

She ran to his side, dropping to her knees and gathering him in her arms. “Asra? Oh god, Asra, please wake up.”

As if in answer to her pleas, purple eyes fluttered open. They seemed distant and unfocused, but they found her face soon enough. The faintest light of fear entered them, eyes widening, and Asra’s mouth opened– but no words came out.

It was then that Amelianne understood.

He had lost his memories.


	2. Together

The rain pounded against the shop window, wind howling outside as lightning split the sky. Amelianne sighed, a steaming mug of tea in her hands as she reclined in her armchair, glancing out through the panes. “What shitty weather,” she mumbled, her voice lacking emotion. Nibbles, curled in her lap, chittered in agreement.

Asra looked up from the table. “What’s the matter?”

Amelianne blinked, turning her gaze to her apprentice. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just complaining about the rain.” She stood, Nibbles scampering down her leg as she placed her cup down. Making her way over to Asra, she peered over his shoulder. “How’s that exercise going?”

It had been almost a year since Asra’s resurrection, and his recovery was going well. He had regained all his motor skills by this point, and was more or less able to speak fluent Vesuvian. He still struggled to find the right words to say here and there, but he was leagues better than he had been on that fateful day. Back then, he’d been a lifeless shell with Asra’s face; now, he was independent enough to be left alone for a day or two at a time.

He’d shown no sign of remembering their past together, though. Amelianne told herself each morning that that would be the day she finally told Asra, but each sunset came, with no such luck.

The one life skill Amelianne had yet to teach him was writing, prioritizing his ability to express his needs verbally. She’d begun on that recently, teaching Asra each of the letters of the alphabet and their sounds. Now, she’d suggested he try to sound out words and write them down– any words that came into his head.

“Oh, I would like to think I’m doing okay,” Asra replied, glancing down at the sheet of parchment in front of him. It was covered in ink, and for the most part, he seemed to be doing quite well with the spelling. Some words, like acquaintance, conscious, leisure and cemetery (she shuddered at that one), were misspelled, but that could be forgiven. They were big words for someone relearning how to write.

“Master?” Asra’s voice cut into her thoughts, and Amelianne held back a grimace. It wasn’t like Asra had never called her ‘master’ in the past but… not like this.

“Mm?” She gave a non-committal hum instead, her eyes still scanning the parchment.

“I was wondering…” He gently pointed out a four letter word, and Amelianne’s heart stuttered to a stop. “Have you ever been in love?”

“In… In love?” Amelianne had completely lost her composure and she knew it. Her eyes were wide, mouth agape, and she couldn’t find the words to say. She had been completely unprepared for Asra’s question. “I… I don’t…”

She stopped. Despite her instinct to dodge and deflect his query, it was actually helpful to her. She’d been meaning to tell him for ages; this was just the final push she needed. Asra was asking, so why lie?

Nervous was not a word Amelianne would use to describe herself, yet she was unquestionably nervous as she took a deep breath. “Yes. I’ve… been in love before.”

Asra tilted his head, looking at her with a childlike innocence and wonder in his purple eyes. “What’s it like?”

What was love like? That was a hard question to answer. Love manifested itself in so many forms that Amelianne was certain the Vesuvian language didn’t have words for all of them. What was she supposed to say? Did she talk about the way he could make her laugh with the dumbest of comments, or the way his smile lit up her whole world? Perhaps, instead, she should mention the butterflies whenever she spoke about him, or the way her heart (what was left of it) ached when they were apart. Or perhaps love wasn’t in their feelings, but their memories  _ (the ones Asra had lost).  _ Sharing bites of pumpkin bread under the setting sun, dancing under twinkling ballroom lights at the Masquerade, curling up together under the sheets and holding each other close; these were memories Amelianne treasured, ones she could liken to love.

“Master?” Asra’s face had turned to concern, and Amelianne realized that she’d been silent for far too long.

“I’m alright. Just… thinking.” She reached out, daring to take one of Asra’s hands in her own. His surprise was written across his face, but she didn’t let that deter her. “I think that… love is passion. Love is to give yourself completely and selflessly to another person.” Now that she was talking about it, she couldn’t stop the words from rushing out, the memories of Asra’s warm lips upon hers spurring her on. “If this act brings you joy, then you are in love. And it’s so  _ incredible, _ Asra, you can’t even begin to imagine it.” She squeezed his hand, trembling slightly from the fervor of her emotions. “You have to experience love to really know it, and I–” She cut herself off, her eyes finding his and quickly getting lost in them. “...and I’m so lucky to have met the person I love,” she finally breathed out.

The look on Asra’s face was nothing short of awestruck. “You must have loved them a lot.”

“I did.” No, that wasn’t quite right. “I do. And they loved me. Unfortunate circumstances tore us apart.”

The glint in Asra’s eyes wasn’t one of recognition, but of curiosity. Whatever, it was good enough for her. “What happened, Master?”

Amelianne couldn’t help but tense. Those memories weren’t good ones for her, and were painful to look back on; but Asra was asking, and she couldn’t deny him his past any longer. “They…  _ he _ died. Because I was selfish, and I wasn’t thinking. The Red Plague took him. Asra, I…” She took a deep breath.  _ Moment of truth, Amelianne.  _ “I love you. I’ve loved you for seven years now. And you’ve loved me for six, and it would be more but you don’t remember, and–”

“Amelia.” Her nickname came out as a whisper, Asra looking at her with wide eyes.  _ Now  _ recognition flickered in his gaze, and Amelianne felt her heart soar.

Then Asra collapsed.

_ “Asra!”  _ She caught him in her arms, gently lowering herself to her knees and resting his head in her lap. “No, no, Asra, talk to me,  _ talk to me, _ what’s wrong?”

A pained groan seemed to be all her beloved apprentice could manage, his eyes empty. Amelianne had only seen him look like this once before, a helpless shell of a person during the cold, dark night, but even then, his expression had not been twisted with pain. He’d been confused and afraid, but he wasn’t hurt. Amelianne wanted to help, but she couldn’t because she  _ didn’t know what was wrong. _

Her thoughts raced, spitting out mad theory after theory about what could have elicited this response. Panic clouded her mind as she babbled, desperately trying to snap Asra out of whatever state he was trapped in.

Memories… remembering. Remembering his past had been what had triggered this fit, so maybe it stood to reason that  _ forgetting  _ would set him back to normal. Amelianne’s throat tightened at the realization; she didn’t  _ want  _ Asra to forget that she loved him,  _ that he loved her.  _ Yet she could see no other solution, and letting him remember seemed to mean letting him suffer. Amelianne knew she could be selfish, but not to that extent. Never to the extent of letting her other half (literally now) be in pain.

“I’m so sorry, Asra,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek and dripping onto Asra’s skin. He didn’t react. “I didn’t know this would happen, I– I need you to forget.”

Magic answered her call as easily as always, though part of Amelianne wished it wouldn’t. Orange light danced across her fingertips briefly before seeping into Asra’s forehead. A heartbeat later, his shoulders slumped, his expression relaxing.

His empty eyes closed, then opened again. Purple glimmered with a familiar warmth. “Master?” Asra’s voice was tired, but he seemed well. “I can’t remember anything from the past few minutes… what happened?"

“You just… passed out.” Amelianne hated lying to Asra. She knew she was gifted with a silver tongue, but the love of her life was the last person she wanted to manipulate. Still, the alternative seemed to be putting Asra through a world of unimaginable pain. “Come on, let’s get you in bed and get some rest.”

She ignored Asra’s protests that he wasn’t tired, heart thumping in her chest as she thought back to the incident of only a few minutes ago. What had happened? Why had Asra gone catatonic from his memories? Was it too early?

...was the simple act of remembering going to be impossible forever?

She shook the thought from her head. Of course it wouldn’t be. She would do well not to dwell on such things.

* * *

After the incident, Amelianne became unwilling to try again, for fear of hurting Asra once more. She became vigilant, careful to keep conversations away from topics relating to Asra’s past, and hiding any items she feared might trigger inquisitive questions.  _ Dangerous _ questions.

Unfortunately, it only took a few months for her to grow careless. It was during the second year of Asra’s resurrection, around March, and she was in the main shop organizing potions and charms for display. Asra was upstairs in their living space, but he’d lived there for as long as he could remember and never found anything amiss, so Amelianne figured it was fairly safe. This assumption would soon prove to be a grand mistake.

“Master!” Amelianne gave a hum to show she was listening as she heard footsteps come down behind her. “I was searching through the closet, and I found something interesting.”

“There’s a lot of interesting things in that closet if you look hard enough,” Amelianne replied, her eyes still focused on the items in front of her. The luck charm was sparklier, so more people would be compelled to buy it, but the charm of heat resistance was arguably more useful in the summer…

“I mean, yeah.” Asra gave a little laugh, and she smiled faintly. Music to her ears. “But this is different. It… has my magic in it.”

Those words caught Amelianne’s attention. Her shoulders stiffened, the luck charm nearly slipping from her fingers, and slowly, she turned around. Asra held a golden fox mask in his hands; simple, but tied to memories that were precious to Amelianne. Ones she’d been trying to keep a secret.

“That’s…” Amelianne’s voice was distant to even her own ears, struggling to find the words to say. “Yeah. It’s yours.” She wouldn’t have been able to say what compelled her to blurt out the very information she’d been trying to hide from Asra.

“Mine?” Asra glanced down at the mask with a look of wide-eyed wonder. His fingers brushed over it reverently, like it was an object of great value, even though it was probably only worth a few coins. “So… it’s from my past?”

Amelianne hesitated. She took a glance at his face, seeing his eyes full of life and curiosity. No sign of vacancy.  _ Maybe the first attempt really was just too early? _

She took a deep breath. “Yes.”

She was wrong. Not that that was immediately obvious.

“It looks pretty formal,” Asra noted, glancing up at her with a smile on his face. “For a party?”

“Count Lucio’s Masquerade.” Amelianne stepped closer, gently resting a hand on Asra’s arm. He blinked in surprise, but didn’t flinch away. “It’s where we met, actually. And… not quite where we fell in love, but it may as well have been. I…” She squeezed her eyes shut. Never before had she had trouble expressing what she wanted to say, but given what had happened the last time Asra had remembered, she was scared. Scared to hurt him again. “I’ve wanted to tell you, but last time I told you, you fell catatonic and I didn’t want to hurt you–”

She was cut off by the feeling of cool fingers caressing her cheek, her heart leaping into her throat as wide, wonder-filled purple eyes met with hers. “You love me,” Asra whispered, in a voice she hadn’t heard in years, “and… I love you.”

In fairytales, this was the beautiful moment where the prince and princess (or whatever variant of that it may be) kissed and then lived happily ever after. Amelianne was  _ not  _ a fairytale princess, however; before any of that could happen, Asra crumpled.

“Asra!” The situation was so eerily familiar, Amelianne could barely manage to steady the both of them with her shaking arms. “Asra, please, no, look at me, this can’t be happening again!”

Unfortunately, a quick look at his eyes (dead, vacant) proved that it was. Amelianne bit her lip to keep the ugly tears from spilling as she struggled to control her breathing again. “Okay, that was… that was… that was a mistake. I’ll… I’ll set you right, and then I’ll burn the stupid thing–”

Burn. The word brought back even more painful memories (ash, bone, blood-streaked sands) and Amelianne let out a choked gasp, burying her face in Asra’s shoulder. It was harder to steady the both of them like this, so she dragged him over to a nearby beanbag, placing him down with the gentleness one might handle glass with, before flopping down unceremoniously beside him. “Okay, maybe I won’t burn it, but I’ll get rid of it, and– oh, what does it even matter?!”

She touched her fingertips to Asra’s forehead. The familiar motes of orange light answered her call, her magic seeping into Asra’s being and wiping away the events of the past few minutes.

Asra’s eyes fluttered open, his features immediately twisting with concern. He reached a hand out to touch Amelianne’s cheek, and it took all she had not to flinch away. “Master, why are you crying?”

“I was… cutting onions.” It was a flimsy excuse and she knew it, but Asra had unshakable trust in her. Sometimes she wished he wouldn’t. “For… dinner. Why don’t you, uh… go grab some of the spices for me!”

Asra nodded, standing and moving to do as she’d requested. Amelianne just laid face-down in the beanbag, not feeling like moving to  _ actually  _ prepare dinner anytime in the next decade.

She didn’t notice the worried glance Asra threw over his shoulder.

* * *

July. Four months since she’d vowed to never breathe a word of their past to Asra ever again.

She wasn’t taking it well.

Journey after journey, leaving Asra alone for weeks sometimes instead of just days. She was drowning in her own pain, guilt and regrets like a noose around her neck, too engulfed in her own anguish to see the hurt she was inflicting upon Asra.

It was Friday when Amelianne arrived back from her latest trip to Nopal, her feet aching and her half heart sore. Or maybe it was Saturday? Hell if she cared. The passage of time might as well have been meaningless, and all that she really cared about was the fact that she was home. Regrettably.

She wished she could’ve stayed away forever.

“Asra?” she called into the depths of the shop as she threw her satchel at a chair. No response. She was alone; Asra must’ve been running errands. Well, fine by her; the longer spent away from him, the better.

She stalked upstairs, dragging her fingers through her hair as she expelled a sigh. “Gods, what is even the fucking point anymore,” she muttered as she flopped down onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as though the blank, cold white could block out reality.

Nibbles scampered up her arm, twitching her nose in concern.  _ “Amelia?” _

“It’s  _ nothing,  _ Nibbles,” Amelianne ground out through gritted teeth. “Just dealing with another day in this hell, regretting my decision to bring him back because all it’s brought me is pain and suffering and he’ll  _ never remember!” _ She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I hate everything.”

Nibbles squeaked wordlessly, scurrying off the bed. Amelianne didn’t bother to look until she heard the shifting of fabric, her head rolling to the side to observe her familiar trying to drag one of Asra’s spare scarves over to her.

“Nibbles, what are you…” Amelianne pushed back the lethargy in her bones to accept the scarf, pulling it close. Immediately, Asra’s warm, familiar scent of incense and pumpkin bread washed over her. It seeped into her being like a soothing tide, and she unconsciously pressed it closer, chasing solace for the first time in two and a half years.

She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt something wet run down her cheek. She tried to stop it but she couldn’t, the tears falling thicker and faster the harder she tried. She’d been treating Asra terribly, hadn’t she? And over what? A memory loss that wasn’t his fault, but hers?

“Oh, gods, Nibbles, you’re right,” she choked out, trembling as understanding sank in. “It… It hurts like hell, yeah. Nothing can change that. But… another thing that can’t be changed is that…” She swallowed, trying to steady her breathing. “I love him. That’s a fact as certain as the sunrise or the tides.” She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I’ve been a real idiot, haven’t I.”

“Master!” Asra appeared at the top of the stairs, concern etched into every line of his face. “I heard crying. Are you alright?”

“Asra!” Amelianne gave a startled laugh, trying to dry her tears. “I… I didn’t hear you come up. I’m okay. Or, well, I will be. Just give me some time.”

Asra padded closer, bringing a box of tissues with him, which she gratefully accepted. He sat beside her as she dabbed at her eyes, flashing her that stunning smile which always managed to brighten her day. “I’m glad, Master. It breaks my heart to see you upset. I wish I could bring you nothing but happiness.” He sighed softly, gently placing his hand over Amelianne’s. “There is nothing I treasure more than your smile. I wish I got to see it more often.”

Amelianne’s head snapped up. “Wh… what?” Dumbfounded. Speechless. Flabbergasted. No word in the Vesuvian language could completely convey how she was feeling right now.

“I’m sorry, was that too forward of me?” Asra began to withdraw his hand, but without thinking, Amelianne latched onto his wrist. He blinked at her, eyes wide. “Master?”

“Don’t go,” she breathed out. She was fairly certain she’d never been this much of a mess in her entire life. “It wasn’t too forward, I just– Asra.” Unconsciously, her grip on his wrist tightened. “Asra, how do you feel about me? What you said… am I just a friend, just a mentor to you, or… something more?”

Asra exhaled softly, cheeks coloring as he glanced away. “I… oh, this is awkward.” With his free hand, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was hesitant to tell you because I thought it would be unprofessional of me, but… I think I’m in love with you.”

_ I think I’m in love with you. _

They were easily the most wonderful words Amelianne had ever heard in her life.

“Asra.” The intensity of her tone caused him to look back at her. “If loving me is unprofessional of you, then I’m fucked too, because  _ I love you.” _

Asra’s whole face lit up, brighter than the sun, and Amelianne felt her heartbeat quicken. He reached out to gently cup her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. “Master… Amelia. Amelia, may I kiss you?”

_ “Please.” _

Kissing Asra again after so long was better than even their first kiss, in Amelianne’s opinion. Stars burst behind her eyes and she felt light-headed and dizzy, their magics mingling and sparking, welcoming one another home. Her hands came to rest on Asra’s shoulder as she desperately held him close, as though breaking this kiss, this moment would cause him to slip through her fingers again.

When they broke apart, Asra’s eyes gleamed with unfiltered euphoria, his smile matching. “You know… that gave me a sense of deja vu. Like… I’d been here before, kissed you before.”

Amelianne’s heart skipped a beat. “You have,” she replied, because if Asra loved her, if he had kissed her, nothing could go wrong, right? Not anymore. “Many times before. We were in love, Asra.” She paused.  _ “Are  _ in love.”

Asra blinked, gazing at a spot just over her shoulder, seemingly deep in thought. “We were in love… we were, weren’t we? I remember. We met at the Masquerade. I had seen you by the refreshments, you’d just told off a noblewoman for spilling wine on your dress. You had such a passion to you… I fell instantly in love. So I walked over to you, and I said–”

“‘Excuse me, but I couldn’t help but notice how you stood up to that awful noble lady,’” Amelianne finished. “‘May I have this dance?’”

Asra chuckled, nodding along. “I see I’m not remembering wrong, then. After that, the rest is history.”

Suddenly, Asra froze. His smile fell, replaced by a grimace, and his hands shot up to grip at his head. Immediately, Amelianne was on high alert, shoulders tensing. “Asra? What’s wrong?”

“My head,” he ground out through gritted teeth. Okay, ask an obvious question, get an obvious answer. “I was just thinking about the night we met, and all of a sudden…” He was cut off by a pained gasp.

“Okay uhhhh, don’t think about it!” Amelianne blurted out. “Just try to control your breathing, think about calm things, like- like waves! Think about waves.” She hoped her panic wasn’t visible.

She saw Asra’s eyebrows furrow in concentration, before he shook his head. “It’s not working. The pain won’t go away.”

“Okay then, uhh…” Amelianne racked her brain for another solution and came up with none. Gods, she was really going to have to do this again, wasn’t she? “Asra… I’m going to need you to forget.”

“What?” Asra’s eyes flicked up to hers, panic in his tone. “I don’t want- agh!” His body convulsed with pain again, his fingers coming up to fist in his white locks.

“I know you don’t want to forget, I don’t want you to either,” Amelianne answered hurriedly, magic already crackling at her fingertips. “But… please. You’ll get another chance to remember…” She hoped. “Trust me.”

Asra took a shaky breath, obviously still in immense pain. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” She brushed her fingers against his forehead, willing her magic to wipe his memory. Asra’s eyes fluttered shut, and a moment later, his expression relaxed.

“Asra?” she dared to whisper.

Purple eyes opened, finding her immediately. “Master?” Asra placed a hand to his temple. “I feel like I’m forgetting something important… what–”

“Don’t worry about it,” she interrupted. She offered him a smile, hoping it would distract from her red and puffy eyes. “You know, I’m pretty tired from my travels. I’m going to turn in early tonight– would you like to join me?”

Asra’s head tilted to the side, a look entering his eyes that Amelianne had come to know meant he was considering whether to concede or press. He seemed to decide on the former. “Sure, why not? I’d love that, Master.”

“Great.” There was no denying that this was… hard. Still, she resolved not to run from it any longer. Asra deserved better. “Here’s hoping we have sweet dreams, yeah?”

Asra laughed, any traces of discontent vanishing. This may not have been the perfect life Amelianne had envisioned, but she figured for now, it was pretty damn close.

* * *

True to her words, for the next five months, Amelianne didn’t leave even once. She stayed by Asra’s side, though she was careful to give him space.

Still, Amelianne was never good at bottling up and controlling her emotions. That led to the night of January 1st. It was midnight; Asra was fast asleep, but Amelianne stood on the doorstep of the shop, a cloak wrapped tightly around her to protect from the pouring rain. Lightning split the sky, followed by a rumble of thunder, and she let out a sigh. “What shitty weather,” she murmured.

Nibbles peeked her nose out of her cloak.  _ “You don’t have to do this, Amelia.” _

“I know.” She really did. This wasn’t an easy decision. “But… I need some time to myself. I won’t be gone for weeks this time, promise.”

Nibbles didn’t seem convinced, but she gave an affirmative squeak, crawling back into Amelianne’s cloak. The magician gave another sigh, checking the contents of her satchel one more time before stepping out into the storm.

She and Asra were together again. So why was it that she’d never felt more alone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And from this point forwards, things are about to get pretty canon-divergent. Stay tuned, and feel free to contact me at princess-of-arcana on tumblr (and if you want to try this challenge yourself, I'm happy to roll prompts for you)!


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